


The Good Morrow

by FayJay



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-04
Updated: 2009-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayJay/pseuds/FayJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the night before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Morrow

It was the lick of dawn light against his shuttered eyelids that finally tugged Remus back into consciousness. He was quite emphatically not a morning person, and invariably he lingered in the liminal space between slumber and waking for as long as he possibly could before surrendering to the new day. It took his sluggish brain several long moments to register anything out of the ordinary about this particular morning. More than half asleep still, he languidly took stock of the situation: the rough pressure of the rug under his bare skin was familiar from countless nights in the Shrieking Shack; his limbs and the planes of his face felt reassuringly human and fur-free; and there was a very large, very male, very naked body pressed up against his back, and an unfamiliar arm slung possessively around his waist with its fingers lazily entwined in his own.

Remus stopped breathing. His eyes snapped open, and the sudden surge of sunlight dazzled him. He moved back out of the glare automatically and felt his weight pressing unsubtly into the warm skin behind him. This was -- new. Very new.

"Are you awake?" Remus felt the familiar voice reverberate through skin and bone and it made him shiver for a whole host of reasons.

"No," he said firmly. He was answered by the quick clench of sweat-damp muscles in belly and chest flexing against him as Sirius laughed, and the brush of breath at the nape of his neck was playing havoc with his capacity for rational thought.

"Liar."

Remus couldn't help but notice that Sirius was still welded up to his back, and showing absolutely no inclination to let go of his hand. Hitherto unknown portions of his friend's anatomy were cheerfully making their presence felt in the most disconcertingly intimate fashion. Sirius Black, it appeared, was considerably less heterosexual than all previous evidence had seemed to indicate. Remus could feel himself flushing, and grinning, and was quite glad that he couldn't see the other boy's face just yet.

"Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"Did we -- when -- ah. I mean to say, it looks like. Um. You do realise, of course, that I can't remember a blessed thing about last night?"

"Hmm." Remus had not realised it was possible to infuse one syllable with quite so much amusement. Or lasciviousness. He shivered again. "What makes you think there's anything to remember?" asked Sirius, in as poor an attempt at innocence as Remus had ever heard.

"Circumstantial evidence does rather suggest --" he began, torn between laughter and frustration at Sirius's sheer bloody Siriusishness, when the stubbly rasp of a cheek rubbing against his shoulder and the gentle pressure of a bite just at the tender juncture of shoulder and neck abruptly robbed him of the power of speech. Remus's brain might not remember the night's activities, but it appeared that certain recent experiences were inscribed bone-deep. The little nip had an instantaneous, and entirely undisguisable, effect.

"Sirius, if we -- I mean, if we had -- I was a wolf, that's just so very wrong in so many -- oh. Oh, that's -- oh, my word. Do that again."

 

* * *

 

"Ahem."

It was close to mid-day when Remus blinked blearily awake a second time, and it took him some time to fathom out which limbs were his. He was decidedly sticky and pleasantly sore, and the whole room positively stank of sex. Sirius was still asleep, but his fingers were laced firmly through Remus's own, and that made Remus quite inordinately happy.

"I said, 'Ahem'."

Remus shifted slightly and peered over his friend's shoulder.

To his considerable embarrassment, James and Peter were framed in the doorway. Peter's eyebrows seemed to be in some danger of pushing their way up through his hairline and James looked more than a little embarrassed, but he was, to Remus's very great surprise, grinning good humouredly.

"I'll say one thing for you, Moonie, you don't do things by halves."

This, Remus reflected, would be an excellent moment for a witty retort, but unfortunately his store of one-liners seemed to be temporarily bare. Like the rest of him. Oh dear.

"Potter?" growled Sirius, without opening his eyes.

"Yes?"

"Kindly fuck off, old chap."

"Just wanted to make sure you two were all right. You seemed a little -- ah -- preoccupied last night."

"Yes. And if you don't want to witness me giving Remus a sound preoccupation in front of you, I suggest you toddle on your merry way."

"Right you are."

Remus didn't see the other two depart, because his field of vision was abruptly full of Sirius Black.

In the unlikely event that 'preoccupation' were ever made a competitive sport in the Wizarding Olympics, Remus would have cheerfully bet all his worldly goods on Sirius carrying away the gold for Great Britain.


End file.
